Playing With Fire
by Another Rainy Day
Summary: Breezepelt wants to hurt his father, and what better way than to use Jayfeather? Rated T due to torture.


**This was written for a friend's Jayfeather death scene contest on another site. ^^ **

**Just a quick warning: this features a cat being burnt alive, and if you think that could freak you out or something, this isn't for you. It's not too bad...and it's written pretty badly...XD**

* * *

It was hot.  
No...hot was a huge understatement. Blinding heat radiated from all around the small gray cat, slicing through his thin tabby coat and leaving him sweating and exhausted, even though he'd been awake for only a few heartbeats. He hadn't felt anything this strong since the night Ashfur - he'd rather not think about Ashfur, but even that couldn't compete with the harsh fury all around him.  
Jayfeather struggled to make sense of his surroundings, but the fierce heat was clouding his senses, and all he wanted to do was sink back into blissful nothingness. He could feel rock under his thin figure - that couldn't be right, though, because he'd gone to bed in his warm moss nest, with the world around him a decent temperature.  
But now he had somehow found himself in a burning wasteland. Something was definitely wrong here, since there was no way this could have happened to ThunderClan during leafbare, but the medicine cat couldn't place it. Groggily, he forced his eyes open and studied his surroundings.  
There was fire. Everywhere. He was encircled in bright orange flames, licking hungrily at the dark, smoky sky, but the hillside around him had small patches of dry, burning grass. It went on as far as he could see.  
Wait..._see?_  
It was then that Jayfeather realized he was just dreaming. Of course. He never really lingered on it, but fire had always made him uncomfortable, ever since the night on the cliff. It was just a nightmare, though, and it would end soon.  
_But if this is a nightmare, why does the fire feel so real?_ a voice in his head demanded. He desperately shut it out, unwilling to panic.  
He forced himself to continue assessing his surroundings. He was lying limply on a rock - it resembled the ones that the elders would sometimes sun themselves on, except now the heat of the fire made them unbearable. He attempted to get to his paws and find a better place to stand, but he felt his muscles scream in protest, like he'd spent all night running and had simply lost the strength to move.  
Doubt started to creep into his mind. He'd been sleeping peacefully before, so why couldn't his legs support his weight? He fought the terror rising in his chest and looked around for an explanation.  
It was then that he looked up into two very familiar pairs of burning amber eyes.  
The owner of the eyes, a sleek black tom, smiled darkly and took a step towards Jayfeather. Long, sharp claws slid out, glistening in the flickering firelight all around them. There was something off about the cat, though, some quality he hadn't had the last time they met, but had somehow acquired now.  
Oh, right. Jayfeather could see the flames dancing through his muscular form. He was dead.  
"Jayfeather," the tom purred, slowly inching closer to the gray tabby. He wore a look that was a strange mix of bitterness and sick glee, something that set fear settling into the pit of his stomach.  
"Breezepelt." He forced the words through his mouth, and they sounded shaky and uncertain. He knew how weak he must appear, lying slumped awkwardly across the too-hot rock, unable to move. "I-I...I haven't seen you in a while."  
Breezepelt smirked. "Oh, yes. While you were busy being babied by your Clan, I watched as my own turned my back on me." The twisted smile, dark and dangerous, never left his face, but darkness slipped into his silky tone. He continued in a voice that was too casual for his words, "That, and I died. Do you know how, brother?"  
Jayfeather flinched at his use of the word _brother._ "No. How?"  
The black tom turned away; the smirk vanished instantly. "Your father killed me." His voice was not slightly raw, but still mostly the same.  
"He's your father, too," Jayfeather replied, somewhat defensively. "He wouldn't even acknowledge me for _moons._ If anything, you're more of his son than I-"  
"_Shut up!_" Breezepelt roared, whirling around. Jayfeather realized he'd hit a soft spot, and didn't know whether to be proud of afraid - in the end, he choose both. "He spends all of his time moping around the WindClan camp, thinking about _your_ mother. Every time he looks at me, he wishes he was looking at _you._ He doesn't want me, Jayfeather! He doesn't care! He killed me, and he doesn't even regret it, and I know because I'm alone up here with the rest of the Dark forest dead, and I have to watch _every second!_"  
Furiously, Breezepelt launched himself at the medicine cat. Jayfeather was too weak to protest, and too afraid of setting him off again.  
"So now," Breezepelt began again, jealousy and pain pouring from his voice, "I'm going to hurt him back. I'm going to take his favorite son away, and he's going to have to see your broken, burnt body and know it was me, and it was all his fault. And he'll have to live with that, every day of his life. Because if losing me can't hurt him...then it has to be you!"  
Jayfeather shrank back in his grip, pressing his tiny body against the dry grass and dust of the ground. Around the, the fires continued to burn, closer and higher than ever, and Jayfeather was acutely aware of what his half-brother was about to do to him.  
"It's going to hurt," Breezepelt finished, digging his claws into Jayfeather's soft shoulder fur. "Him, you, your brother, your mother...they'll all pay. It'll hurt them all."  
"You're insane," Jayfeather whispered, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "You really think this will ever-"  
With a yowl of fury, Breezepelt picked Jayfeather up by his scruff and flung the gray tabby through the air. His body hit the rock - which was still as hot to the touch as ever - with a painful jolt, and he whimpered in pain. "Sorry."  
"Oh," Breezepelt whispered, eyes glittering dangerously, "you will be..."  
He padded up to his victim, tail lashing, and dragged him carefully away from the heated stone. Jayfeather breathed a sigh of relief, and, irritated, Breezepelt slammed him against the ground, hard.  
That shut him up.  
Up above him, lightning split across the sky, and Jayfeather flinched. _Please let it rain. Please. I'll never ask anything again, StarClan, I promise._  
Breezepelt laughed, clearly picking up on his thoughts. "We're alone, Jayfeather. No one can reach us. It's only a dream." He paused. "But you know the importance of dreams, don't you, Jayfeather?"  
He nodded, too afraid to speak.  
"Imagine what your Clanmates will think when they see your body, charred and ruined, lying in your precious den in your precious camp...they won't ever know what hit them. The poor things will be so afraid of the monster that did this..." Breezepelt smiled cruelly. "But I won't hurt them. Your death will be enough."  
Jayfeather didn't move, barely breathing - getting air into his lungs was growing a bit hard with smoke from the fire clogging up the air. He coughed, making Breezepelt's smile broaden in a pleased manner.  
"Okay," he announced cheerfully. "Time's up. I'm getting sick of you." Without another word, he resumed carrying the weakened - he still couldn't move his legs very much - tom, this time heading towards the ominous flames.  
Jayfeather made one final attempt to break free, twisting and flailing around in Breezepelt's firm grasp, but it did no good, and he just held on tighter.  
If the heat had been strong when he'd first awakened here, it was now completely unbearable. Breezepelt paused only a fox-length away from the hungry fire. Orange tongues of flame lapped hungrily at Jayfeather's fur; not enough to burn him, but still a little painful.  
Slowly, Breezepelt began to edge him into the burning mess. Not all at once - no, he was being careful to make it slow and agonizing, and he wanted it to hurt.  
And oh, StarClan, it _did._  
Flames eagerly clung to his fur, and smoke filled his mouth, nostrils, and face. He screamed involuntarily, and it took him a moment to recognize the voice spiting the air as his own. It _hurt!_ He felt like he was being consumed in a world of bright orange and air that was too thick to breathe, being torn apart by the pain that flooded him.  
His limbs suddenly began to move again, but the dulled ache had become a ball of fiery agony. He thrashed wildly, shrieking at the top of his lungs - which also hurt a lot - flailing his front legs like he had no control over them. He flung one wildly at Breezepelt, trying to at least drag him in before he died, but the tom ducked expertly and dropped his body into the all-consuming fire.  
It was an all new kind of hurt, wiping away all of the previous damage. He was _in_ the fire now; it was on all sides of him, and he could feel the brightness of it through eyes that were squeezed desperately shut against the burning sensation that ripped him apart. He couldn't see his pelt, but he could imagine the blackness of his fur as it was destroyed, burn away to nothing. He could scent it through the smoke, and it didn't smell very good.  
Now the flames had reached his deep into flesh, and it was so bad that under normal circumstances, he would have fallen unconscious from pure, unrelenting pain. But this was Breezpelt's twisted world, and while he controlled it, Jayfeather was sure that there would be no relief from this torture until he was long dead.  
"Help me, StarClan, someone, anyone, it _hurts!_"  
He could hear Breezepelt laughing, but he didn't care, because this was the worst thing he had ever experienced and he wanted it to end. He didn't care how, or why, or what he had to sacrifice, but all he could feel was the pain and his desire to make it _stop_, and he didn't care anymore.  
"Why? Why me?"  
He started thrashing again, trying to put out the flames, but they were everywhere and they wouldn't leave. His struggles were weakening him fast, and he knew his energy was fading away, but maybe that would end it faster?  
"Help me, you monster, _make it go away!_"  
He was too exhausted to move anymore now, even though it couldn't have been long. Everything felt like forever right now, though; he coudln't remember what it had felt like to be free of fire and pain and endlessness, and he felt like it would never stop.  
"_Breezepelt!_"  
He was so tired...he wanted to give way top blackness, but he couldn't, because it was just out of his grasp...  
"_I'm your brother!_"  
Everything was fragmented, his thoughts, his actions, his experiences, everything...  
"_Why do you hate me?_"  
Burning, burning...  
"_Breezepelt, please!_"  
Laughter, dancing his ears...  
He couldn't scream anymore, it hurt his lungs too much...  
Pain, excruciating and real and everything he knew now...  
Coughing, blood spilling over his mouth, choking on it...  
His limbs, frozen and weak and hurting _so much_...  
Hopelessness...  
Exhaustion...  
Pain...  
Nothingness.

* * *

**I've never been burnt alive, so this could be inaccurate. I wouldn't know. XD**


End file.
